


All the good things

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Bliss?, Future Fic, Gallagher House, Happily Married, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sexy Times, Sort Of, back and forth POV, eventually, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: A sigh releases from his lips and his long lashes flutter a few times and then you are assaulted by crystal blue eyes. It makes you wonder if he ever got to see the ocean in Mexico like he wanted. You wonder if the ocean was the same color you’re looking into now.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 110





	All the good things

Can we stay here  
In a still dream  
Where the fan blows  
Soft and cool on everything

The knocking sound is casting a blanket over an otherwise quiet room. It's coming from the fan; it's loose. It's been loose for years and no one in the house has ever gotten around to fixing it. Like most things in the Gallagher chaos, they never ever truly get fixed.

But somehow, in this twin size bed, blankets bunched up at the bottom just barely covering the two pairs of feet that dangle off the end of the mattress, everything seems to be finally...fixed. There really is no fixing either of you. You’re not blind to that fact. But in moments like this one, two heartbeats, two sets of even breathing, the moonlight casting in through broken mini blinds, another thing that's never gotten fixed, nothing seems broken. And yet you know you both are still so broken. Nothing will ever really repair what you both have been through. No bolt or screwdriver will tighten the broken pieces of you both. But together, somehow as the days go on, somehow the broken pieces slowly glue themselves back together. It's not a permanent fix. There will be tears along the way; pieces will come apart and it’ll take time to repair them all over again, but you will do it. Together. That's one thing you are sure of.

**_  
All the sharp pains  
Of a new day  
They don’t seem so  
Hard to take when I’m around_ **

He shifts next to you and the sound of your hair across the pillow cuts through air and you watch his face scrunch up. You wonder if he’s dreaming. You find yourself lying awake at night wondering if all the visions in his head are of violence and homophobic fathers. Jail cells and mayonnaise. You hope not. You hope that somewhere in that chaos there's relief. You hope somewhere in there, you're there too.

A sigh releases from his lips and his long lashes flutter a few times and then you are assaulted by crystal blue eyes. It makes you wonder if he ever got to see the ocean in Mexico like he wanted. You wonder if the ocean was the same color you’re looking into now.

A small smile creeps across his lips and a few smacks fill the room from those same lips. One eyebrow raises and he shuffles his dangling feet and they find yours. You can't help but jump a little at the sudden change in temperature on your skin. 

“Why aren't you fuckin’ sleeping?”

You shrug. He presses a soft, almost undetectable kiss to your shoulder. He murmurs a soft sound and tangles his arm out from underneath himself and drapes it over your bare middle.

“We’ll fix that fucking fan in the morning.”

You smile and finally close your eyes.

**_  
I get sick with  
Keeping up sometimes  
I get sad too  
But never once when I’m around_ **

He’s watching you. You can feel his eyes on your back as you work the screwdriver into the new screws you found on top of the shelf over the washing machine. To be honest you’re kinda surprised there was even a screwdriver in this house. Your skin feels hotter than normal with his eyes on you. It always does. When his eyes catch yours from across the room and you feel it instantly. It's like you're 17 again and you're two south side pieces of trash just learning what it's like to come into your own. But now, a decade later and it still feels the same when his eyes land on you. It's like electricity. It's like a cool breeze from a window unit air conditioner on the hottest day of the year. It's the first bite of the best burger you will ever have. It's the best orgasm of your life, every damn time. 

It's infuriating. It's terrifying. And you get to feel it every damn day for the rest of your life.

“This thing is a piece of shit.”

“Yup.” He takes a sip of his coffee and you sigh heavily. You mumble obscenities under your breath and twist the screwdriver one more time, maybe a bit too hard because let's face it it's what you always do with everything in your life, and the blade cracks off and crashes to the floor.

“Fuck this fucking piece of shit, FUCK!” You throw the screwdriver to the carpeted ground and you hop off the chair that you’d been standing on. His eyes are wide for a second as he clutches his coffee cup in his hands and then he sees you, all angry and frustrated and the bastard starts laughing.

“Oh fuck you. This house is falling apart all around us.” You kick the chair and it falls over and you throw your arms up in the air. “See what I mean? Christ.”

“So lets move out.” 

You turn, and he’s still smiling, half almost giggling and sips his coffee like some kind of lunatic. Which, well….

“What’s that, mumbles?”

“You heard me.”

“Move out where?”

He shrugs. “Anywhere?”

You huff out your own laugh and right the overturned chair. “Yeah, ok.”

“Why not?”

You look at him again and there it is. The look you knew was coming. The look you knew would be there when this inevitable conversation took place.

“Come on, man. Not now.”

His eyes that were once sparkling with laughter, now turn overcast and pain fills them. Your chest instantly contracts and there it is. Your own pain. Fuck.

“Fuck you, Mickey. Fuck. You.”

Yeah, that seems about right.

**_They will offer  
Poison apples  
They can't make us  
Choke on them_ **

The smoke exhales from your lungs and you flick ashes on the concrete step. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful glow over the southside. Oranges, purples, reds. It's home. And it's nights like tonight, when everything feels so still, that you know this is where you belong. You can put on a uniform, try and date all the right people, but in the end, you’re from the south side. You’re trash. And you always will be. And that's okay. At least you thought it would be. Once you and him got married. Once you had the love of your life. Nothing else mattered. You defied the odds. But now….

You hear the door open behind you and you know it's him. Even though so many other people live in this house, you know it's him. The soft breeze coming off the sunset brings his scent to you and you close your eyes for a moment. Fuck, you love the way he smells.

“Hey.” He drops now next to you, cigarette already lit and dangling from his bottom lip. Christ, how does he make everything look sexy? 

You don't answer. Yeah you know it's childish. Who the fuck cares?

“Come on, Gallagher..”

“Don’t.” You use his own words back at him; words he tried on you so long ago. It didn't work then.

“The fuck you mean, don’t?”

Guess it's only fair not to work now.

“So let me get this straight. You were ready for us to get married, but not get our own place together?” You counter.

He sighs heavily and takes a long final drag before flicking the butt of his cigarette somewhere into the yard. “I never fucking said that.”

“Right. You said nothing but that's pretty much an answer isn't it?” You spit at him and go to get up.

“Hey!” He grabs your wrist and yanks you back down onto the stoup. Fuck, you always forget how strong he is. “Sit the fuck down, firecrotch.”

If you weren't so mad...so hurt, you’d smile at the old nickname. But you sit. You’ll give a little.

“Would you stop being such a drama queen? Fuck, I forgot how much you act like a girl sometimes.” He takes a deep breath in. “Now, I never said I didn't want us to have our own place, okay? I just...it takes time okay? And money.”

“Time? Christ, Mickey, its been like ten fucking years. And as for money, I-”

“Stop right there. Yeah, it's been 10 years since we...whatever started this thing-”

“This thing.” You snort.

“Oh fuck off and listen, okay? Yeah, this thing that started when I was in the closet and fucked up and angry all the fucking time. And you were just starting to get sick. And then you did, get sick. And went AWOL. And I went to juvie and then fucking prison. So yeah it may have been ten fucking years since the first time we banged, but it hasnt been ten fucking years. Don’t kid yourself.” He lights another cigarette. You wait. He’s not finished. He deserves to finish. He never gets to finish.

“And as for money, yeah YOU have money. I don't. I work fucking security at some hipster store in the god damn mall. That’s not enough money to buy myself an Orange Julius everyday. If we do this, when we do this, I want it to be equal. It's never been equal. One of us was always giving more than the other at some point. I don't want that anymore. This is us, finally together. And maybe-'' He takes a long drag. “-maybe I just want to enjoy it for a while. No pressure. No bills. None of this ‘did I remember to run the fucking dishwasher.’”

“You think we could really afford a place with a dishwasher? With your salary?”

His head whips up and he glares at you. You smile and bump his shoulder. 

“Fuck you, Gallagher.” He huffs out a laugh and you giggle as you wrap your arm around his shoulder and kiss the side of his head.

“Okay. Okay, Mick. We can just enjoy this.”

You both watch as the sun finally disappears underneath the houses. The sky turns to night and the stars slowly start to shimmer. There’s no blankets but maybe there will be a shooting star.

**_Can we stay here_  
In a still dream  
Let the white noise  
Calm and blanket everything **

One Year Later:

You can feel the breeze of the fan on your sweat stained skin. There's no noise cutting through the softs pants and whimpers from your mouth or his. He pushes and you arch your back up involuntarily. He grabs a hold of your neck; fingers sprawled up over your mouth. You lick at his fingertips until he gets the hint and shoves two fingers into your mouth, hard, almost gagging you. You moan around his taste and he pushes in, in in, and you buckle up as you find yourself seated on his cock. He brings his other hand around and caresses the skin on your stomach just mere centimeters from your own cock. With every push up into your body, his hand grazes the tip of your dick and you moan around his fingers louder. The pressure on your windpipe is almost too much to take but you enjoy the feeling of finally really letting go in moments like this. Where he has complete control over you. Body and mind. Heart and emotions. It's just him. All around you. You sob a sound around his fingers and he shushes you in your ear. He has you. He’s reminding you.

“Let go, mick. Come, so I can fill you up with mine.”

And that's all it takes. His throaty, sex infused voice in your ear as he pushes his cock right against the sweetest spot in your body and closes his hand a little too tight around your neck with his wet fingers. You practically scream as you come; spurts all over the sheets and some landing on your stomach. He rubs it into your skin. It's disgusting. But so intimate in ways no one will ever understand. No one but him. Because when you two are like this, it's like you are the same person. He’s inside you. All around you. And it's like you're floating above yourself. You feel his heartbeat against your back and your own ringing in your ears. You feel his breath on your skin. His cock buried deep inside your ass. Its more than sex. More than getting each other off. It's deep. If you believed in God, or fuck anything, it would be that. But you do believe in something. This. What's between you two. 

He’s close behind you with his own release; whispering your name like some kind of prayer as you feel the warmth inside you. Both of you boneless, satisfied and so fucking in love, he lowers you slowly onto your stomach and turns you so he’s still pressed against your back. His fingers slowly loosen around your neck, but he doesn't take his hand away. It grounds you. He knows that. He uses his other hand to pet your wet hair, pushing it off your forehead and presses soft kisses to your jawline.

You stay like that for a while. In the new bed you both just purchased that you saved 5 months for. With the breeze from the fan that doesn't bang around from broken blades. There's no dishwasher, but it doesn't matter. 

This place has all the good things.

And most importantly, him.


End file.
